


Made Faces

by ManChildEvolution



Series: Naruto Rare Pair Bingo 2019 [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Anbu Nohara Rin, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Jinchuuriki Nohara Rin, Naruto Rare Pair Bingo 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:18:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManChildEvolution/pseuds/ManChildEvolution
Summary: ANBU do not have feelings. ANBU do not fall in love. ANBU certainly do not develop crushes on their targets.





	Made Faces

Masks made a man. They hid, protected, lied,  _ broke _ . All the essential pieces of a shinobi. The best of the best were the ones who, in addition to hiding their hearts, hid their faces. The ANBU. Black Ops. Assassins. Murderers. Men without mercy.

 

Turtle came to appreciate the porcelain slab that hid her face from the people whose lives she stole. She’d already woven a thick sheet to hide her mind from the world, and a jagged scar marked the place where a warm heart used to be.

 

No one starts out cold, people are meant to love and be loved. Turtle wasn’t always this cold, but she was never naïve. She’d killed before she donned the masks, seen life snatched away by enemy hands. Hopeful, naïve, closely guarded shinobi did not make good ANBU.

 

This time she is alone, though in her mind, she is always alone. Her feet thrum on the surface of Amegekure’s glistening lake, perfectly in time with the raindrops. It’s too late in the game to try for stealth, her prey knows she is here.

 

Like a dog kicked into a corner, Turtle’s target halts in front of the rising structures that make of the outskirts of the city. She’s a pretty woman, tall and sinewy, with intelligent eyes and composed shoulders.  _ Would have been a nice one to grab drinks with,  _ Turtle thinks,  _ Would have been. _

 

The prey, gathering up all her wit and strength, pulls wax-coated paper sheets from what seems to Turtle like nowhere. The float and weave in intricate flight patterns, some of them forming great white wings, others circling their commander, awaiting orders. The enemy nin’s cloak itself dissipates into an army of paper bombs, swirling and framing their master’s oh so  _ perfect _ figure.

 

Feeling the cursed pink heat that only ever flooded to one’s cheeks at the worst of times, Turtle is once again grateful for the mask. She reaches into the back of her mind, skimming past any fleeting thoughts of the paper lady with fewer clothes on.  _ Wake up Isobu, you bastard, now’s your time.  _ The familiar sense of another consciousness rouses the adrenaline in Turtle’s muscles. Red hot chakra pours out all around her, sizzling like a deadly acid.

 

Seconds pass. Minutes.

 

“Well?” The other woman crosses her arms across her chest, lifted an exasperated eyebrow. “If all you want to do is stare at me, you should have just asked.” She rolls her eyes and stretches her mouth into a thin line. “If you don’t say anything, then this is a waste of my time.”

 

Turtle falters. She had wanted the other woman to strike first. Wanted this to quick and smooth, so she didn’t have to think about it. Wanted to react and leave. Now she had feelings. ANBU were  _ never  _ supposed to have feelings.

 

“It’s just that… how can I think of attacking someone as pretty as you?”  _ I’ve sunk. I’ll never get out of this.”  _ Turtle scratched the back of her head and shrugged cheekily.

 

Fuming, the other woman swats a hand across Turtle’s face, only briefly making contact before jumping back with a yelp. “Stung me!” She grips her hand tightly, as if pressure would ease the pain. 

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Turtle mutters, letting the bijuu chakra recede. “You should have been more careful.” She takes two long strides to the other woman, taking her injured hand. “Let me handle it, I’m a medic.”

 

The paper ninja’s eyebrows knit together, though she has no time to protest before her hand is saturated in glowing green light. “Name? You’re from Konoha, I presume.”

 

“You presume correctly, I am called Turtle.” The ANBU nin bites her tongue to stop herself from revealing more. How could she let a stranger tear away at her precious masks? She forces more chakra into the wound.

 

With a growl, the ame nin snatches up Turtle’s porcelain face, and tosses it into the gaping maw of the lake. “I mean your  _ name _ , soldier.” She bends forward to inspect the exposed Turtle, now becoming the hunter.

 

Turtle, realizing that she is now the prey caught in an inescapable trap, and that her cheeks are turning darker shades of red by the second, fiddles with her hands over the other woman’s wound. “Rin,” she manages, limiting it to first names.

 

“Good, then. I’m Konan.” Konan flashed a triumphant smile and yanked her hand away, waving it as though she were trying to get dust off of it. “And it looks like there’s a storm coming over the lake, so you’d be wise to find a place to stay.”

 

The tone of Konan’s voice is all too obvious, and the curve of her devilish smile all too alluring for Rin to pass up. For now, she’ll leave her masks behind. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
